


Black Wings of Glass

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [84]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Competent Dumbledore, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Parent Severus Snape, Good Severus Snape, Healthy Relationships, Parent Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Trans Female Harry Potter, Trans Harry Potter, because fuck jkr, translesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: “Absolutely not.”His words were flat, emotionless. He’d already cried out all that he could, wrung himself of every last drop of life. Whatever feelings that he had left were filtered through resigned grief and blackened self-hatred.Dumbledore’s response took on a harsh edge, a knife willing to cut for what it wanted. “Yes, you can. You will. Or need I remind you of the vow you took?”---Or; Severus being a good dad, Harmony being lesbians, and people generally being competent
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Series: One-Shot [84]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429282
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Black Wings of Glass

**Author's Note:**

> rewritten, but unedited  
> Snape, because him being an exasperated parent amuses me  
> Trans Harri, because fuck JKR and her shitty views.  
> \---  
> exposition not explained in fic: prophecy is learned late, like twelve-ish hrs before James/Lily's death, Sev doesn't get to ask Volde to spare Lily  
> the Blacks are politically neutral, magically dark. Reg & Bella join Volde, but once Reg disappears Bella is disillusioned enough to turn spy. She's pals with her sisters, and since the Blacks are closest to Harri as family, they're her aunts.

“Do you swear it, Severus? Anything at all, no limitations?”

Of course he did. _Of course he would._ Bloody hell; hadn’t he already proved that much by showing his face? By the simple act of arriving? They were both alone, and he’d told _no one;_ not even Lucius knew just where he was. Even Bellatrix was unaware of his true intentions, and she’d turned tail months ago.

Severus choked and swallowed back his tears. “I will. I will, I swear it, just please _save her.”_

The old wizard was deep in thought or appeared so much like he was that Severus couldn’t tell the difference. Dumbledore’s typically gaudy robes had been exchanged for grey with red fringes, and the storm that was about to bear down on them was now whipping the tattered ends into a frenzy. Those blue eyes of his, nearly pale as ice and yet still so deep, seemed to burn back against Severus’ soul, his mind.

“Very well, then. I’ll see what I can do. Though, understand this, Severus. I’ll work as hard as I can to save them both, but what you’ve set in motion may be too far gone to stop. I’ll try, but it still may end in death.” Dumbledore looked away, finally, before continuing.

“There may be no point to your redemption.”

Severus dredged himself, reached inside and hauled out every little ounce of energy and will. They had only twelve hours, no more, more than likely less. He’d come here late, he’d been the last to know, and now there could only be one way forward, outcomes be damned. Severus ground his teeth together and choked back another sob, swallowed away the hope that filled him.

With a measured tone, he answered, “Understood. I’ll do it. I’ll make whatever deal you want.”

As Dumbledore nodded and withdrew his wand, Severus waited and wondered if he had saved or doomed the woman he loved.

\---

“Absolutely not. There’s no way that I can take him.”

His words were flat, emotionless. He’d already cried out all that he could, wrung himself of every last drop of life. Whatever feelings that he had left were filtered through resigned grief and blackened self-hatred.

Dumbledore’s response took on a harsh edge, a knife willing to cut for what it wanted. “Yes, you can. You will. Or need I remind you of the vow you took?”

Severus closed his eyes and signed. Dumbledore needn’t, after all. Still, though, Severus ended up suffering through a relatively strong argument in favour of the plan, no matter how much he resented it. 

“Sirius is dead, or gone, or so very lost to himself that he may as well be both. None of the Ministry’s trackers can find him after that display in London. All we have now is the word of two Aurors. They allege that Pettigrew admitted the deed and then destroyed himself and all those who bore witness to it. All that he left behind was a single finger. As well as I do, you know that a Godparent should be the one to take Harry in. _There are none._ Frank and Alice have both been committed to St. Mungo’s for the foreseeable future. The leading experts who’ve reviewed the case are all certain that they’ll be there for the rest of their lives. You can thank Bellatrix that they aren’t dead; supposedly, she cut down Rabastan before he could deliver a killing blow. Though, if I’m honest, I don’t know that I’d consider what they are as _living.”_

Dumbledore strode off towards the crackling hearth at the backside of his office, a long finger idly stroking down the length of Fawkes red feathers before he continued.

“Lily’s parents are both dead, and her sister and brother-in-law both abhor magic. They flat out refused me when I asked, immediately, and if the brief glimpses I had of their mind are any indication, they’d be horrid caretakers. Even with the blood protections that Lily’s sacrifice enabled, Harry would be in danger there. James’ family have all been wiped out by pox and war; his tenuous relation to Molly Weasley is enough for me to _think_ of placing Harry with them, but she’s just lost two brothers on the eve of the war. She has four children, and Arthur is only just beginning to claw his way out of the Ministry’s black-list.

Severus cleared his throat and interrupted, “They’d still be a more suitable situation than myself. Or choose the wolf, if you must.”

Dumbledore merely shrugged, sighed, and then sank deep into a plush armchair. He waved a finger between Severus and the only free seat in the room, a command more than a suggestion.

“No, they wouldn’t. I won’t take up your time with all the little factors, but the situation is as it is. They aren’t capable of taking in Harry. Remus is a good choice, but he’s fled the country. Rumour has it that when he learned his friends were dead or gone and that one had betrayed the others, he broke. He gathered what little he had and set off for greener pastures and the packs that dwell there. I don’t believe we’ll see him any time soon.”

Severus bit at his knuckle and fought back against the sudden rising twist of anxiety that swirled within his gut. It was a threatening feeling, inky black and acidic. He could feel the Vow coming to life; the golden knot that had been emblazoned into the flash on his hand was writing, aching as he fought against Dumbledore’s wishes.

“What about yourself?” he asked, hoping to find at least one loophole.

Dumbledore merely chortled at the suggestion. “You mean _me?_ Are you serious, Severus, or just mad? I’m old. Older than I’ve any right to be, despite our long lives. Even if I was a spry young man, I run a school. I sit in our government and among many of those abroad. I’d have absolutely no time for a child; it would be beyond irresponsible of me to do so. No, no. I think you’re what he needs, Severus.”

Acquiescence only came at the end of a threat, though Severus had to admit that it was one he’d led himself to.

Before he could agree, however, Dumbledore spoke up yet again.

“You’ll need to blood adopt him. Transfer it both ways so that Lily’s protection will encompass you both. Whatever home you take, it’s his. The protection will follow.”

That might have been a step too far, but for the sudden blinding pain in Severus’ heart. The Vow, and his grief, had decided that he was no longer allowed to protest. Right then and there, he understood why the Vow had been outlawed centuries ago.

_“Fine.”_

\---

Parentage was a curse that came with more restrictions than Severus had ever imagined. Just what in the world had convinced Lily that this was worth it? Even if she’d not needed to deal with all the little intricacies of _his_ situation, how was this something anyone wanted to do? He needed to watch out for a tiny, underdeveloped little human. He needed a job, and Severus had high, exacting standards for himself. Unfortunately, no one hired ex-Death Eaters who hadn’t already been set up by their pure-blooded families. Also, unfortunately, Dumbledore _was._

Maybe it was fortunate. At least he had an income, while so many lowly soldiers in Voldemort’s ranks who’d managed to evade Azkaban were asking for knuts on the corners of Diagon Alley. 

The job came with some measure of _good,_ though. Youngest Potions Master in fifty years. The youngest Head of House _ever._ A spacious on-site apartment where he could keep to himself and look over Harry whenever classes were out. A stipend for a secondary apartment off-site, home to himself during the summer months, or whenever he needed a break. The staff around the castle were willing to be enlisted as babysitters, and even the House Elves could take over that if Severus were so inclined to allow them to do so. 

He wasn’t.

He was blood-related to the young child that had managed to vanquish Voldemort, or that was at least what all the populace of Britain believed. He was beholden to a school’s schedules, again, but no longer in Dumbledore’s debt. He still had his duties to attend to, though; hearings for an entire year, meetings with Aurors and Unspeakable who wanted everything and anything that he knew, every last scrap of information that was relevant to those years he’d served Voldemort. Now he read bedtime stories, made cute lunches for Harry, and took the child on long walks around Hogwarts’s grounds. Severus regaled Harry with all the stories his head could hold, all the theory that he could understand, all the legends, information, and facts. 

Health checkups, flying lessons, trips to Diagon to manage the remaining Potter vaults; Severus filled every hour of every day with _something._ Sometimes that something was Harry conversing with the serpents that made the Forbidden Forest their home. Sometimes it was blowing bubbles and finding himself smiling despite himself. 

Severus could only hope that his attention and care would be, to Lily, acceptable.

It was the least that he owed her.

\---

“I know it. I know _me,”_ Harri said, sitting just as primly as she could.

Severus nodded again. His stance on the subject hadn’t changed one iota, and he was glad to see that Harri was just as honest with the mind-healer as she’d been with him. It was his first trip there, but he’d known about Harri’s reason for being here for months at this point. For Harri, this was the seventh meeting, and hopefully one of the last. 

Severus knew where his daughter stood, and he could tell that Andromeda did as well.

Andi Tonks smiled warmly, “Well, then if that’s the case, we might as well get on with it, eh?”

The scowl that had once been a permanent fixture on Severus’ face was gone now, replaced instead by what would appear - _to outsiders_ \- as a rather limp, faux-smile. Harri knew what it meant, though, and just how deep the heart beneath it ran.

Eleven years was more than enough time for Harri to worm her way into a permanent position within his heart. Eleven years was more than enough time for their relationship to blossom into something more substantial. Harri _was_ his heart, _his_ child, _his_ family. And now it was time to make that family whole, to place Harri within it just as she wanted to be.

“Will it hurt?” Harri asked, though Severus knew that she was asking more about the ritual itself and not the change it would initiate. 

Andromeda knew so as well. She smiled and reached out to place a hand atop Harri’s head, shaking her own.

“No, not at all. Three drops are all we need, and I can numb your finger first. I also took the liberty of asking my sister to prepare the potion; I hope you don’t mind, Severus.”

Harri turned to Severus, and her voice tinged with awe, “Aunty Cissa made it? Really?”

Severus nodded, though his smile turned to a frown. Andromeda could see beneath it, though, and understood it was in good humour. She’d cleared it with him the week prior, of course, aware he might have wanted to do so himself.

“Your Aunt Narcissa did, indeed, brew the potion,” he answered, standing up to his full height. “She’s just as good as I am, if not more, though we specialise in different areas. She was a good choice.”

Andromeda beamed and grabbed a silver phial from the bookshelf behind her, and Severus took the liberty of inspecting it one last time, just to make sure. It smelled of old pine and tangerines, and the silver was much more a muted tone instead of glittery and bright.

“Top notch work. Do pass my compliments onto your sister,” he said.

“Of course.” Andromeda’s smile brightened even further as she took the phial back and placed it in Harri’s hand. “Now then, just a small pin-prick on your finger, and then let three drops fall in. Once that’s done, bottoms up. Alright?”

Harri stared at the pin in Andromeda’s hand and then glanced once more over at Severus. She nodded and held out an index finger.

True to her words, Andromeda raised her wand first, numbed the end of Harri’s finger, and then pricked it once with the pin. Harri let three drops, red as ever, fall into the phial. A faint blue light suffused the container once that was done, and Harri tipped it to her lips, gulping once before setting it aside and sitting just a tad straighter in her seat.

“Tastes like mulberries,” she noted, licking her lips and making a face.

Andromeda snorted. “Well, of course it does. Narcissa’s rather renowned for making all her potions taste _good,_ while other, less discerning brewers seem rather content to let us all make ugly faces.”

The needling brought a rose tinge to Severus’ cheeks. “I’m certain that you’re not talking about _my_ potions, Mrs Tonks.”

“She can’t be,” Harri broke in. “Yours all taste like chocolate.”

Andromeda turned to him, affronted. “Chocolate? _Really,_ Severus? You’re giving Harri chocolate, and the rest of us suffer with brussel sprouts?”

Severus smiled as the banter continued, back and forth, each of them relaxed yet waiting for the first telltale signs of the potion’s effectiveness. They didn’t have to wait very long, in the end, as after only a few minutes spent talking shop and gossip, Harri gasped. She lost a few centimetres off of her height, and suddenly her voice was a little squeakier, just _slightly_ different.

“Woah,” she exclaimed, standing up with hands against her lips. 

“Ah, now there we go. Right on time.” Andromeda waved her wand, and a readout of red and blue glyphs appeared in the air. “Looks perfect to me. You’re doing fine, Harri. It should be over with momentarily.”

A twisting blush came over Harri’s face, and Severus watched, enraptured, as his daughter came into her own; a face that was just a smidge more like Lily’s, more like Severus’ mother; a little less like James, and less like Lily’s father. Her hair grew down, down, overtaking Harri’s shoulders and hips as the last changes ran their course. When all was said and done, Andromeda rose and shooed Severus out of the room, promising that she would bring Harri out momentarily.

Severus knew when he was out of his element - _a trait that had saved him many times in Slytherin_ \- and took his leave with no protestations. The waiting room outside was spacious and empty, with no one around and no one coming. 

“Well,” he said, the empty air taking in his words with grace and poise. “I wish that you’d have met your daughter, Lily. She’ll be a lovely witch, I know it. _Despite_ her proclivity for flames, snakes, and dangers. She’ll be amazing.”

A moment passed, and the feather atop his heart shifted and tilted but steadily remained.

\---

“Better be, _Slytherin!”_ the Hat shouted out, reams of cheers arising from the back half of the Hall.

Harri waved enthusiastically at Hermione as she passed by the Ravenclaw table, her new friend more than happy to have been sorted off with the bookworms and noted scholars. Regrettably, Harri had been asked to ride the train in before the feast, just as if she were one of the other students and not the daughter of a Head of House. She already _lived_ in the castle, but her father hadn’t seen any reason to go against the Headmaster’s wishes. 

Luckily enough the train ride had served a good purpose; the red steam engine was fertile ground for meeting new friends, and Hermione had been first and foremost. Though they were in different Houses, they promised to meet up outside of class and on weekends to spend time with one another.

As she sat down at the table next to her cousin - _or whatever Draco really was; she could hardly wrap her head around the interwoven branches of old families_ \- clapped her back, his eyes bright.

“Exactly where I knew you’d go,” Draco laughed, his smile as bright as the hair growing from his head.

“Oh hush,” Harri admonished, sporting a smile of her own. “I could have ended up in Gryffindor, you know.”

Draco shrugged his shoulders and began clapping for the next student in line. “True enough, maybe. But where would be the fun in that?”

\---

By the end of Harri’s first year, Severus could feel himself going grey. 

Late-night excursions, duplicitous professors. A Cerberus.

_Quidditch._

\---

“Look, look! It’s down here!”

Hermione sprinted over from where she’d been at the far corner of the bathroom, her conversation with Moaning Myrtle now at an end.

Harri pointed, “Look, right there. It’s the only snake etching I’ve seen; it’s _got_ to be here.”

Hermione pulled a tattered muggle notebook from her robes and nodded in assent.

“I’m going to open it,” Harri declared, already whispering out the parseltongue that was required.

Both of them had dreamed of finding the fabled Chamber of Secrets; a simple note about it in their second-year _‘History of Magic’_ textbooks had sparked an obsession. However, neither one had entertained any chance of _actually_ finding it. But now, as the little serpent embedded in the pipe began to move, they knew they had. Hermione could hardly contain her excitement, and in her impatience she began reciting every bit of information they had. Harri took it in stride; it wasn’t anything that she hadn’t heard or read before, but she _loved_ listening to Hermione talk. The girl could get lost in subjects and theories, all the minutiae so amazing to her that she’d list it off again and again.

But they’d found it, and soon enough she’d quieted as shifting porcelain and silver slid back to reveal a slide-like opening. Together they launched themselves into the tube, a wet incline of bricks and mortar that was preternaturally humid.

They found a door and another lock that was kept shut with parseltongue at the end of the ride. Harri opened it up with her voice and dragged Hermione through the opening, hand in hand, as they moved to see what wonders lay in store for them.

\---

“A Basilisk?” Harri asked.

Hermione gulped, eyes wide. “A Basilisk.”

_“Run!”_

\---

“Girls, what’ve we learned about searching out dark and mysterious locations?”

Harri, her head bowed and wand twirling uselessly in her lap, spoke softly. “Not to go doing so without first informing you.”

Severus turned to Hermione next, the young Ravenclaw so mortified that she looked close to fainting dead.

“Not to do it without letting a Professor know first, Professor.”

Severus brought a hand up to his face and fought to keep from losing his mind.

Somewhere in his main of black, grey hair began to sprout.

_“And no more bloody Basilisks!”_

\---

Severus was, for once, enjoying himself. It seemed he would have the night off all to his lonesome; his little cottage at the fringes of Hogsmeade was warm and quiet, and Harri was off with Hermione to celebrate the end of summer holiday before their third year began. He had a full glass of scotch, a bottle in the cabinet, a plate filled to the brim with a lovely meal he’d spent the afternoon slaving over, and an excellent movie playing on the telly.

Spy films, no matter how ironic their genre, had always been his favourite sort of film. There were _some_ things that he’d clutched onto from his half-blood heritage, and muggles had the _best_ entertainment.

Until a knocking at the door, loud and incessant, roused him from potential solitude.

Severus paused the film and set off for the door, acutely aware that there was never any rest for the wicked. When he opened it up and stared out onto the front porch he nearly lost his lunch, his mind, and most importantly, the serene composure that he’d cultivated while in school.

_“Black?!”_

\---

“So, he’s my godfather,” Harri stated, the third time in a row. Each was like the last, her voice quiet and lost.

Severus sighed.

“Yes. And apparently he’s been off hiding in a mountain range for the past few years. As I said, Harri, I’ll tell you the full story once I know it.”

Harri seemed unperturbed by his tone; she’d learned to sort out the meaning between his words over the years. But what she asked next surprised him.

“Do I have to live with him?”

Severus’ eyes blew open. “What? No, why ever would you think that?”

“Godparents are supposed to hold a special place in Magic. I know that, _you’re_ the one who told me. And you said that my parents made him my legal guardian in their will.”

Severus could hardly keep his tone from bleeding acid, so quickly was he overtaken with a curious sort of jealousy. “And am I not also one of your parents?”

“Not like that,” Harri exclaimed, her voice a confused squeak. “Or, well, yes. No! _I don’t know!_ I know that _you_ know what I meant or what I want to mean. He’s just shown up, and he’s supposed to have been _dead,_ so what am I supposed to even know about this?!”

Severus softened immediately, heart aching at his own lack of understanding. He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, reeling her into a one-armed hug.

Harri, in the tiniest voice that Severus could still hear, continued.

“I don’t _want_ to go anywhere else. I want to stay _here.”_

\---

“Supervised, Mr Black. You’ve been gone for nearly fourteen years; we all want this to go _well,_ not _fast.”_

Sirius waved away Andromeda’s hand, confident in his ability to brush his own hair.

“Oh sod off with that _‘Mr Black’_ nonsense, will you, Andi? We’re all part of the same group of fuckup here. Siri, or Sirius, if you must. Harry’s _my_ godson, and just because I showed up at Snivelus’ doorstep by accident doesn’t mean that isn’t true.”

Andromeda sighed and shook her head. “That’s the first bit, Siri. You don’t have a godson; you’ve a goddaughter _._ Severus took you here because he wasn’t certain how you’d feel about waking in St. Mungo’s, or worse, somewhere in the Ministry. Regardless, Harri will still be around next month, and the next. If the Ministry says you need a mind-healer, _you need a mind-healer._ It’s been one week, what’s another three?”

She waited on his response, but it seemed Sirius was content to sit there and stare back at her through the mirror, his face a curious puzzle. 

“I have a god _daughter?”_

\---

“Hell no, I’m not trying for it,” Harri declared, her hands in her pockets and Hermione’s scarf still tied up around her neck. It smelled of lavender and _home,_ a foreign heat that left her craving the brunette’s affections. 

Unfortunately for her, though, Hermione was back at the dorms and Harri was stuck out here, on the shores of the lake, while Sirius threw mushrooms and other odd food-bits to the squid.

“Why not?” Sirius asked, lobbing a handful of shiitake mushrooms at a curling tentacle.

Harri merely scoffed and continued on drawing runes into the sand with the heel of her shoe. “Well, let’s see. First off, Dad would absolutely kill me if I tried without letting him know first. Second, Aunt Andi would kill me too, even if Tonks would probably end up endorsing the attempt.”

“Ah, she was always a little firecracker,” Sirius interrupted, a handful of acorns pelting the glistening surface of the lake. “Still wigs me out, hearing you call him _Dad.”_

“Get used to it, Siri; it isn’t changing. He’s my Dad. Anyways, reason the third; Aunt Cissa would kill me. Fourth, Uncle Lucius might not kill me, but he’d whine about it, especially if anyone at the Ministry started kicking a fuss, and then I’d have Draco holding that over me. And, lastly, Hermione would kill me.”

“That a lot of would-be murderers. How ever will the Aurors untangle the web of your demise? And really, you put Hermione down last?”

Harri shrugged. “Well, she’s interested in understanding a way around it too. I’d been hoping to entice her with a theory of breaking the ageing line. _I_ think that it’s runic based, just hidden. She thinks it’s a real wardline. I want to know who’s right.”

“Ah,” Sirius smiled, that familiar Black madness creeping in. “So you _are_ planning on trying to cross it?”

“Nope!”

Sirius emptied his pockets of the last bits of food he’d brought with him, a single wave bidding the giant squid goodnight. “So then, how are you supposed to settle that bet?”

Harri laughed, her voice light and chilling. “Easy! We’re going to come up with the methods, but it’ll be Fred and George Weasley who’ll be the ones to try.”

\---

Severus could barely watch. Harri, _his little girl,_ was flying around with a dragon snapping at the backside of her broom. If it weren’t forbidden by magic to interfere he’d have already jumped up and yanked her off to Ilvermorny without a second look back. Hell, he’d have done it when they revealed the first task to the Professors who weren’t involved in setting it up.

Instead, he was in the stands, his face as pale as bone and drenched with nervous sweat.

\---

The door opened, and a young voice asked, “Dad?”

Severus turned to face the interruption, Karkaroff scowling at the visage presented to them both.

“Harri,” he nodded, his eyes conveying what his words could not.

_‘Leave.’_

She took the hint.

Harri’s eyes widened as she turned to slam the door back shut, “Well, I’ll leave you both to whatever this is then, have fun!”

\---

“So, it _is_ getting stronger.” Dumbledore swirled his tea with the tip of his wand and frowned before setting the cup back onto his saucer. “When did it start, Severus?”

Severus sipped politely at his tea and thought on how best to answer.

“It only began to darken a few days ago. I’d thought it was my imagination, though; during the summer the outline seemed a little greyer than I’d remembered.”

“So, he’s back?” Harri asked.

“No, no. Not yet, at least.” Dumbledore responded, his eyes misty and far away.

\---

Harri was in a dream; this _couldn’t_ be reality. She held her breath, pinched her arm, and let the ache in her chest and fleeting pain skittering across her skin prove that this was, in fact, _real._ She stood against the opened doorway for just a second before remembering herself; an awkward and half-stumbled apology tipped past her lips, excuses for being late.

Hermione, however, had far more poise than she did and took it all in stride.

“You look beautiful, Harri.” Hermione moved close, smiled, and ran her fingers down the length of Harri’s dress.

The movement left Harri frozen, falling off into the buzzing stupor of young love.

“Y-you too,” she stammered, finally dredging up the will to move her feet.

Hermione simply smiled - _golden_ \- and dragged Harri off by the hand, her multilayered dress of lilac shifting, reflecting the thrown off light from sconces embedded in the walls. Hermione’s intricately placed braids swinging in the air as she moved on faster and faster, Harri soon enough just running, sprinting, hand wrapped around Hermione’s as she fought to avoid stumbling and tripping.

Her own affair was far less intricate than Hermione’s gorgeous assemblage. Andromeda had conferred with Narcissa for over a week before deciding that simple was their best bet, and Bellatrix had chimed in through a two-way mirror to echo the same. Harri’s tastes leaned towards androgyny, and Andi made efforts to streamline her design, nothing frivolous or eccentric. Blacks, green, and a silver that highlighted the forest in her eyes. Slim and inconspicuous, lines drawn out to reveal toned muscle and feline grace.

Harri had considered the design exquisite, and Hermione had mirrored the same. The constant flush etched upon their cheeks was burning, a heated reminder that this was a reality that hadn’t existed before they’d known one another.

For Harri, who’d longed for this night since she was young, it was a dream come true.

\---

The covers of her bed were whipped back with a flourish of magic, almost immediately settling back down. Harri groaned and blinked her eyes in the glorious light of winter sun, no chance for its rays to be passed through the grime of the lake. A second passed before she tried to retreat back into slumber, the comforting warmth of her bed a draw she couldn’t resist. There was something _curious_ about it though, almost as if-

“Ms Granger, I do believe that you’re in the wrong House,” groused a voice, its drawl so very recognisable that Harri could do nothing other than spring to full wakefulness. “But it might be, in this instance, better to say that you’re in the wrong _house.”_

“Dad!” Harri screamed, yanking the sheets up to cover even her nose, green eyes peeled open and shivering. 

The sunshine reiterated just how monumentally Harri had fucked up.

For what it was worth her father was turned away from the door, chuckling to himself. His voice carried on magic as he began to walk away.

“Dad this, Dad that. Get up, up, you two. Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

Harri fell back down against the pillows as he wandered away, a surprisingly aware Hermione just now peeking out from her nest of blankets. 

“Oh,” her father’s voice came again, the door to her room opening just a crack. “And do _actually_ come downstairs. Students off the grounds without their Head of House’s explicit permission are liable to a punishment determined _by_ their Head of House. I’m sure professor Flitwick will be intrigued to know where you were all night, Ms Granger. And, before I forget, fifty points from Ravenclaw, Ms Granger.

Hermione paled as the door finally closed shut, and Harri groaned into her hands.

“Fifty points?! Why didn’t Slytherin lose any?” Hermione asked, agitated and glaring. 

“Because,” Harri answered, slowly beginning the arduous climb up and out of the cavernous bed. “Whatever punishment he decides to give me will be ten times worse than losing points or detention. He just caught his daughter in bed with her girlfriend. What do you _think_ he’ll do?”

Hermione’s mouth gaped open, closed. Contemplative, and then relaxed. “Oh. Well then, I suppose points and an hour or two during the week aren’t _that_ bad.”

\---

“More wine?”

Severus pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand, Harri momentarily forgotten. She was shrouded in flickering shadows, sitting crossways on a large armchair with Hermione giggling in her lap.

“If you wouldn’t mind, please. It’s a lovely vintage, Clarie.”

Claire Granger positively beamed as she refilled his glass, obviously being pleased that _her_ choice of wine had been the one to win out. Dan always had liked more fruity tones, but her intuition had led her towards a drier, richer flavour.

“Thank you, Severus. I see the lovebirds are at it again,” she noted, nodding towards the giggling teens who appeared entirely engrossed with each other.

Severus downed a large gulp of his refilled wine, a wince - _or something close like it_ \- crossing his features as he did so.

“They’re quite the dynamic duo, are they not?” Severus raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Young love. They are a good pairing, though. Might not be so blatant about it at school, but it’s a rather open secret.”

Dan, feeling himself to be somewhat ignored as he sat there sipping his wine, broke in.

“Good on ‘em, I say. Now, forgive me the inquisition, but you wouldn’t happen to know why Hermione lost her House _points,_ do you? She also apparently had detention, but she won’t tell us a single thing about it. We’re in a little mailing group with some of the other muggle parents, and one of them brought up Hermione being in a spot of trouble. Like I said though, she’s been mum on it.”

Severus blanched and downed the rest of his glass.

\---

Being invited up to meet in Dumbledore’s office was never exactly Severus’ cup of tea, but this particular afternoon promised to be elucidating. Requests for abject secrecy were unusual with Dumbledore, as was the mention that he should keep his _Occlumency_ shields up after having read, and then destroyed, the note that bore Dumbledore’s request.

“I need you to devise a way to incapacitate Alastor that will look natural to the rest of the staff.”

Severus stared back at Dumbledore’s haggard, tired face and fought himself to keep from laughing.

The pale exhaustion seated before him meant this was no laughing matter.

Words choked to death in his throat multiple times over before he could adequately respond. _“Why?_ Albus, why in Merlin’s name would you ask me to _incapacitate_ a fellow teacher?”

“Because that man is _not_ Alastor Moody.” Albus pulled off his half-moon spectacles and set to polishing them with a sleeve of lime-green fabric. “I know my friend, and while I’d had some suspicions at the beginning of term I chalked them up to the extended gap in our friendship. But, as the year has dragged on, it became harder and harder to ignore. Tonight sealed the deal. That is _not_ Alastor; it’s an imposter wearing his skin.”

The words lingered in Severus’ brain until finally, blessedly, they clicked. Understanding came to light, and Severus felt himself darken.

“The ingredients that’ve been going missing.”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore said, jabbing a wrinkled finger into the air. “It’s Polyjuice, though to what end I’m not certain. I’d hazard a guess that it involves dear Harri, though; too coincidental that someone shows up posing as a Professor during the same year that Harri is, inexplicably, chosen to participate in a deadly tournament. If we could hurry things along, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Severus rolled his shoulders, mind already tinkering with ideas. “You’ve let McGonnagal know, I assume?”

“Of course, my boy. She’s locking away the Houses as we speak. The rest of the staff are being led to believe it’s simply a routine drill; one can never be too careful or vigilant. If he doesn’t come down quietly, we take him with as much force as necessary, but under no circumstances may he be allowed to escape. Alive, or _otherwise.”_

It made a particular sort of sense, Severus supposed. It was best to learn what they could, even if it happened to be from a dying man rather than one who’d go on to see Azkaban.

He nodded curtly before turning away, “Very well.”

\---

Severus was shivering with worry and excess energy, but when the Mark _burned_ against his mind, he was ready.

With a _crack_ he was off, reappearing amid crumbling tombstones done gothic and grotesque, cluttered rubble and broken branches. Unkempt grass grew up at intervals, some of it stained yellow with death. He rose up to his full height and strode onwards, silent as he could be with a charm placed over his form, aware that everything now hinged on these next few moments. 

_It wasn’t active yet._

Right now it just held potential, a warning call, wildfire ready to burst with terrible fury. They had caught Barty, and _still_ they hadn’t moved fast enough to get ahead of his plans. Contingencies, roundabouts, lies that were just close enough to _truth_ that it passed detection.

Barty’s final act of defiance, committed after the fact. The only thing that their precious planning had given them was an edge in recognising when things went wrong. Watching as two teenagers touched the Cup, disappeared into a swirl of light, had been all the _wrong_ that he’d needed. In the seconds that had followed he’d shot off a _Patronus_ and then cast a charm to determine where they’d been taken. Now he was here, alone, waiting on reinforcements that might not make it in time.

As he caught sight of the trio, he waited, hidden behind a giant mausoleum. His stomach dropped out as he saw exactly what had become of Harri. 

She was chained up to a monument of Death, Cedric laying facedown by her side. The granite statue stretched out Harri’s arm, and a knife lay poised above her skin. 

Fury replaced horror, and he acted.

An _Avada_ lept silently from his wand, a sizzling, crackling green bolt of lightning that left the air tinged with ozone and burnt rubber. It struck true, and Pettigrew fell.

Dead.

 _Finally._

The murderer who had taken Lily, James, _dead._ The man who’d seen fit to orphan little Harri, all because he was a jealous fool, a coward and a _rat._

 _“Dad!”_ Harri yelled, her voice nearly gone, terrified and choked.

Severus worked as quickly as he absolutely could. Severus spared a single second to bash apart the stone that held her still, the mortar shattering until false-Death was dust and grit. He held her close when she fell forward, tight, making certain that she was alive and unharmed but for the trials she’d endured within the Maze.

Then his attention turned to the silent boy at his side, and Severus reached out two fingers, a meek pulse warbling beneath his touch. He sighed, bone-weary now that it had all passed so fast, and he moved to view the hissing creature contained within the cauldron. Harri, however, seemed preoccupied with a twisting serpent that had come out from behind another gravestone, and Severus paid it no mind when it made no move to attack. Harri could calm the snake down, or at least defend herself well enough to keep it away from him as he finished this.

The cauldron was a massive one, the size used in potions factories and the like. Big enough for a grown man to rest comfortably at the bottom, Severus peered past the iron edge and nearly lost his lunch in it. A shrivelled body peered back at him, its mouth opening and closing uselessly, horrid, choking hisses pouring up as it fought, in vain, to escape it’s self-made prison.

“What the bloody hell did he do to himself?” Harri asked, sneaking glances between the serpent and the thing shivering in the cauldron.

Severus pushed her back and stepped away to collect himself, to take a breath and ready his mind for what came next. A flick of his wrist caught the serpent into an inescapable bubble of air and space, enough of both for it to live, in case it was what he thought it was. When Severus finished that task he set it aside and, with Harri dutifully watching him, struck out at the ruined body of his former master.

Red.

It screamed. Hatred, fury, all the bubbling rage that he’d held tight when Lily had been cold in his arms. Fire, crazed protection burning bright in the understanding that he could have lost Harri, as well.

Green.

_“Avada Kedavra.”_

\---

The gavel struck once. Bang!

Twice. _Bang!_

Thrice. **_Bang!_ **

A fourth time, and still Fudge could not control the uproar; there were far too many bodies in the hallways outside, the rotunda surrounding them, too many on the mezzanine opposite him and the benches seemed fit to burst. And the press, he would never remember the sudden downing of the stars to screech and blink from his little room. Everyone who was anyone was here, now, and screaming out for answers, staring down at the ruined corpse of a long-thought-dead enemy.

 _“I will have order here!”_ he shouted, his voice booming out through a spell that just _barely_ overtook the cacophony of the room. _“Order! Order! Unspeakables, where the bloody fuck are you?!”_

As if his words were what summoned them - _they weren’t, he knew, they had been here all along and simply waited until they were useful, cunting badges, the lot of them_ \- they appeared; new, blue-robed bodies standing tall, swooping in, covering the body and the serpent in a shroud before slowly, methodically, making their way out towards the halls that led off towards their domain.

He’d never make it out of this; he was certain of it. How often had he parroted that incessant surety? Voldemort had been dead and gone, buried long ago under magic he’d not understood. All his followers were either dead, captured, or had become turn-coats. _He was supposed to be destroyed._ Instead of that, however, he had remained half-alive and now had been reduced, again, to an incorporeal mess.

Fudge leaned back in his seat and let the despair wash over him.

He was _fucked._

\---

“Now then, this won’t hurt a bit,” the Unspeakable reassured her, holding her wand just a hairsbreadth from Harri’s forehead. “You’ll feel some pressure, maybe a little bit of heat, and then it’ll all be over. Now, deep breath in, deep breath out-”

Harri sucked in air like her life depended on it and then was suddenly blinded by the pain of a soul being sucked out of her forehead. It was so strong, so _powerful_ that she nearly forgot she even had vocal cords with which to scream. _It_ , however, had no compunction about screaming. It yelled, cursed, spat parseltongue as the Unspeakable pulled it away. Harri wondered if Nagini had needed to go through the same bit of pain; an angry, spoiled remnant of a Dark Lord’s soul blasted away, _out._

No more headaches after this, no more wondering why she felt so different to everyone else, even after sorting out the mess that was her birth body. No more wondering if she was just as dark as _He_ had been or if she had the potential to become that.

Harri tested out a few words of parseltongue, strangely delighted she’d at least kept _that._

Snakes were interesting, and being a Slytherin member who could talk to them was one boon out of all this mess that she still grasped onto.

The Unspeakable smiled at her and leaned back. “There, all done. Great job, Harri. Now that that’s all over with, I’ll send you off to St. Mungo’s for a checkup, and then you’ll be on your way. Alright?”

Harri rubbed at the slowly fading scar, her voice as tired as it was relieved. _“Absolutely.”_

\---

Fifth-year was, for lack of any better description, _average,_ in Severus’ opinion.

Standard except for a few extra moments that he spent, each day, with Harri. Normal except for the suddenly relieved ache in his heart whenever he saw her healthy, happy, and whole. Normal, even when the Dark Mark faded entirely from his skin halfway through the year. Routine, regardless of the Ministry appointed reviewer who’d been sent to observe the school and was almost immediately run off. 

Normal except all the night he spent cooped up at home with a scotch in hand and Bellatrix’s sorely missed face peering at him from the fireplace; she regaled him with stories and tales of her life abroad, the wife she’d met and the children she hoped to raise. Normal even when he spent afternoons at Grimmauld helping Sirius spruce the place up prior to a prospective sale, and long evenings where he tried, in vain, to help advise his once-enemy on how best to woo back a certain werewolf.

Severus spent the last few weeks of that year nearly lost within his own mind; preparing and revising all the study guides that he’d devised - _after a long, involved chat with Ms Granger on the merits of actually preparing students for their tests, rather than letting them sort it out for themselves_ \- in an effort to get more than half of his fifth-year students onto a N.E.W.T. track. Harri had been included in that group, though Merlin knew just why she was pushing so hard for it.

She may have spent years watching him brew, but he’d never gotten the idea that it was what she wanted from life. She was perfect in her Defense and Potions classes, acceptable in Herbology and Transfiguration, a flat out genius in Runes, and more than smart enough to stand out in Arithmancy - _though Severus suspected that was more so due to Hermione’s influences, rather than any particular affinity she had for the subject, and really, he wouldn’t be complaining either way_ \- and distinctly average in Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Divination.

She had a whole plethora of classes to choose from next year, and Severus made sure to be available for any question she could throw at him. He gave her lectures, pamphlets, old notes of his own that he’d scrawled in too-fine cursive that now seemed showoff-ish and immature.

The furore that had engulfed them at the end of the prior year was nowhere to be found, and his home was no longer the sight of a massive horde. So many people had wanted to catch a glimpse of the Girl-Who’d-Lived-Twice, and her ex-Death Eater adoptive father, the man who’d struck down Voldemort. Now there was only one or two a month, and they generally left them alone but to gawk. Severus quite liked it that way, quiet and serene.

But then the year truly ended, and there was nothing more for him to do.

All the studying was over with all the tests given; all the students sent off back home. Harri remained with him for the week afterwards, Hermione as well - _after extensive conversations with Mr and Mrs Granger, Severus had no desire to insult his only muggle friends by accidentally withholding information from them_ , - as they geared up for a trip to the continent.

Severus was glad to let them both run amok around the castle halls and the streets of Hogsmeade. All that they had left to do was pack what needed packing and prep for their portkey date.

One final obstacle remained, however. One final nail in the coffin that had been Harri’s most formative years. 

“Come along,” he commanded, opening the door to Harri’s room and interrupting the duo.

They were both deep into a game of muggle cards but nodded dutifully at the words before rising to follow him out.

Severus let his left arm fall to the side, and Harri immediately grabbed on.

“Now then, hang on, and whatever you do, do _not_ let go. _Apparition_ is hard enough on someone unused to it, side-along even more so.”

With the warning finished, they disappeared in a crack of sound and light.

\---

When they finally popped back into existence the space around them was clean and empty. There was just a slight hint of summer's warmth now flitting through the air, a breeze that ruffled hair and clothes but remained manageable to walk in. Harri released his arm and stumbled forward, her eyes squinting back against the sudden burst of light and nausea. Hermione followed quickly and placed a palm on Harri’s back, and Severus averted his eyes to give them both space.

After what seemed to be a minute or two, he turned back to them and nodded, twisting on his heel as he headed off towards their destination. Quaint, unremarkable homes lined the sides of the street; little cottages that all looked similar, but different, to what he remembered from all those years ago. Their destination was close by, and Severus slowed up to allow Harri and Hermione to pass him, his mind so far away he felt divorced from his body. The duo were walking hand in hand, and Severus found himself looking anywhere but where they were headed, picking up rooftops and trees, birds and alleyways instead of the only location they could be nearing.

That task was much easier said than actually done, and all too soon the moment of avoidance was over with, gone before it had really begun.

Before them stretched out a graveyard so different from the last one that he’d been in that it might as well have been from another planet entirely. Here the grass was cut low to the ground, and flowers had been planted around the fence line that enclosed it. Twisting reams of red and gold climbed up the iron bars, a wall of beauty holding death within, a chasm it could not cross. The headstones were all well kept; polished marble and granite sparkled beneath the sunlight, and the words inscribed on all of them were easy to read, seeming to glow in the golden light of the afternoon.

But there were only two graves here that they’d come to see, and Harri knew just where they were.

The stone was simple. Flat grey, no filigree or designs. Just two names, four dates. An inscription that Severus had read again and again, so many years ago.

He gave the teens their space and waited further back, his mind alive with memories of things he’d trade the world for.

\---

The night following their visit to Lily and James’ grave was cold. Harri came to Severus’ study with an oversized jumper on, a sombre expression, and red-rimmed eyes. He set down the sheaf of notes that he’d been going over and pushed back his chair to stand.

Harri hadn’t needed any sort of invitation, and soon enough, he had a sobbing girl stuck tight to him in a hug that was fit to crush.

When her tears let up, they talked, openly and honestly, until the first few rays of sunshine graced the horizon. He had promised never to hold anything back from her, and that night he revealed everything. No truth kept in the dark, no painful admission withheld. She raged at times, cried at others, and fell into fits of giggles. He played her select memories on the Pensieve that Dumbledore had gifted him and let her read his old notes and letters.

When she finally passed out on the couch, he bundled her up in a blanket and lifted her back to her room without any magic.

As he turned to close the door, he caught a glimpse of her stirring, rolling deeper into feathered pillows, and so he paused. 

He sighed, long and deep, a reflection of his heart.

Content. _Home._

“You both had better be proud of her,” he whispered, wanting nothing more than for Lily and James to know how much he meant it.

The feather atop his heart finally shifted, falling entirely away. 

Somewhere, Anubis lost a bet.


End file.
